As I mentioned a few stories ago, I was a very avid little Scout. I started Cubs some time around 1980, and I went all the way through to Eagle Scout in 1989. At first, my dad was a huge part of my troop, and even went so far as to be Den Leader when we'd have our meetings at the United Methodist Church and eventually Haverhill Elementary School. Sadly, I don't remember many of my friends from Scouts in those days, save for my buddies Andrew Mautz, Kenny Aldritch, and Timmy Baldwin (the son of our future Boy Scout Troop Leader). Other than that, it's very much a blur. But a good blur, because there are a few camping trips I remember over others, a few Jamborees I can pretty readily piece together, and certainly a decent slew of other Scouting activities I can definitely coalesce into remembrances. The following tale will cover one of our camping excursions that we went on over a weekend when I was working to become a WeBeLo Scout.
Our standard camping locale was Camp Rota Kiwan off the Appledorn Trail just behind Kalamazoo Valley in Texas Township. It was easy to get to -still is- and far enough into the woods to have that feel of distance and lack of civilization, even though it was less than five miles in either direction from... stuff. But, it was a favorite and we planned trips on as many weekends as we could; setting up games for badge earning, and scheduling hikes for nature experiences. Those trips were always so wonderful and it didn't take much to walk away with a sash full of new advancement fodder and even little adornments signifying your achievements in hiking, swimming, teamsmanship, and gamesmanship. It was, at its most basic essence, what Scouts were all about.
But below the surface of what Scouts do to be Scouts, was the seedy underbelly of what makes kids, kids. And when night fell and the bonfires were lit, it was time to attempt to out-scare your fellow campers with the most nightmare-inducing tales we could come up with. Fortunately, I was friends with one Kerry Frieben, and he told me all about the Pin Man. No, not the be-studded demon from Hellraiser, this was an entirely different story... and apparently a pretty damn frightening one, too.
The story goes like this: Years ago, Kalamazoo Valley wasn't a college, but an insane asylum. It harbored the most diabolical and insipid criminals in the state who were deemed to 'crazy' to be placed in prison. Some were people who heard voices, some were people who worshiped the Devil, and still others were so twisted and evil that they just had to be kept in padded rooms far away from anyone else. One man in particular was a serial killer with one calling card to his profession: when he was about to kill you, he left a pin on your pillow as a symbol of what was to come. You see, he wasn't called the Pin Man only because of his gruesome ritual, he was dubbed the Pin Man because that's what he jabbed into your eyes and ears while you slept. And not those little sewing pins, but those giant hat pins that are several inches long!
A few years before he was scheduled for a rehabilitation program, he escaped the asylum and fled to the huge woods that encompassed the many acres behind it. In fact, it was the very woods we are in right now. You see, after they gave up attempting to find the Pin Man, and eventually assuming him dead, the asylum closed and a college was built in and over its remains. But soon, stories of locals being murdered with gigantic pins began appearing on news casts and in papers. The community was once again under the fear of being killed by the Pin Man.
The murders came (maybe a dozen over a few years) and finally ebbed, and the Pin Man was once again forgotten. But some still say he haunts these very woods even today, seeking out campers and leaving pins in their beds...
Now, this story was scary enough. It would definitely get many Scouts looking behind them and scooting closer to the older Den Leaders. But it was made all the more frightening by the fact that I would choose one camper at random and put two pins on his pillow as he slept. Yeah, that caused a few screams and bed-wettings, I don't mind telling you. I think maybe once some boy was so scared he had to have a parent come pick him up. I suppose if this didn't all go down in the 80's when 'Friday the 13th' was in full swing, it might not have been as bad. And yes, I would let everyone in on the joke the next morning and either win applause and accolades, or else a private scolding from my dad. I think he secretly thought it was funny, but he couldn't let on.
Just be careful if you're ever camping Rota Kiwan... Pin Man might still be out there. Or maybe he's dead. One can never be too sure.
Ha ha ha ha ha...
*
Our standard camping locale was Camp Rota Kiwan off the Appledorn Trail just behind Kalamazoo Valley in Texas Township. It was easy to get to -still is- and far enough into the woods to have that feel of distance and lack of civilization, even though it was less than five miles in either direction from... stuff. But, it was a favorite and we planned trips on as many weekends as we could; setting up games for badge earning, and scheduling hikes for nature experiences. Those trips were always so wonderful and it didn't take much to walk away with a sash full of new advancement fodder and even little adornments signifying your achievements in hiking, swimming, teamsmanship, and gamesmanship. It was, at its most basic essence, what Scouts were all about.
But below the surface of what Scouts do to be Scouts, was the seedy underbelly of what makes kids, kids. And when night fell and the bonfires were lit, it was time to attempt to out-scare your fellow campers with the most nightmare-inducing tales we could come up with. Fortunately, I was friends with one Kerry Frieben, and he told me all about the Pin Man. No, not the be-studded demon from Hellraiser, this was an entirely different story... and apparently a pretty damn frightening one, too.
The story goes like this: Years ago, Kalamazoo Valley wasn't a college, but an insane asylum. It harbored the most diabolical and insipid criminals in the state who were deemed to 'crazy' to be placed in prison. Some were people who heard voices, some were people who worshiped the Devil, and still others were so twisted and evil that they just had to be kept in padded rooms far away from anyone else. One man in particular was a serial killer with one calling card to his profession: when he was about to kill you, he left a pin on your pillow as a symbol of what was to come. You see, he wasn't called the Pin Man only because of his gruesome ritual, he was dubbed the Pin Man because that's what he jabbed into your eyes and ears while you slept. And not those little sewing pins, but those giant hat pins that are several inches long!
A few years before he was scheduled for a rehabilitation program, he escaped the asylum and fled to the huge woods that encompassed the many acres behind it. In fact, it was the very woods we are in right now. You see, after they gave up attempting to find the Pin Man, and eventually assuming him dead, the asylum closed and a college was built in and over its remains. But soon, stories of locals being murdered with gigantic pins began appearing on news casts and in papers. The community was once again under the fear of being killed by the Pin Man.
The murders came (maybe a dozen over a few years) and finally ebbed, and the Pin Man was once again forgotten. But some still say he haunts these very woods even today, seeking out campers and leaving pins in their beds...
Now, this story was scary enough. It would definitely get many Scouts looking behind them and scooting closer to the older Den Leaders. But it was made all the more frightening by the fact that I would choose one camper at random and put two pins on his pillow as he slept. Yeah, that caused a few screams and bed-wettings, I don't mind telling you. I think maybe once some boy was so scared he had to have a parent come pick him up. I suppose if this didn't all go down in the 80's when 'Friday the 13th' was in full swing, it might not have been as bad. And yes, I would let everyone in on the joke the next morning and either win applause and accolades, or else a private scolding from my dad. I think he secretly thought it was funny, but he couldn't let on.
Just be careful if you're ever camping Rota Kiwan... Pin Man might still be out there. Or maybe he's dead. One can never be too sure.
Ha ha ha ha ha...
*
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